


Different Men

by JaneTurenne



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Gallifrey (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Community: whoniverse1000, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-02
Updated: 2011-05-02
Packaged: 2017-10-18 21:23:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/193442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneTurenne/pseuds/JaneTurenne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The man who calls himself Torvald can't stop thinking of a man named Andred's wife...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Different Men

**Author's Note:**

> From the prompt 'Leela/Torvald' at whoniverse1000

Before he had ever seen her with this pair of eyes, it was easier to pretend. It was _almost_ possible to forget, when all he had was remembrances from another lifetime, that the other man who lives inside his memories ever had a wife. But after that first mission together, there’s no more pretending to be done. He has to see her again.

Arranging another mission together for the two of them is time-consuming, tricky, and diverts far more of his attention than he ought to spare. Even once he manages that, it's nearly impossible to engineer that mission specifically to include a moment when, by way of eluding pursuit, they are forced to squeeze themselves into a very cozy broom cupboard, but he’s cleverer than anyone has ever given him credit for, and he gets the job done.

“Watch where you put your hands, or you will not have them tomorrow,” she hisses, as they awkwardly shove themselves into the too-small space.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Savage,” he sneers. They both end up facing the door, he standing behind her. “Do you think I need to stoop to groping humans in dark rooms?”

“I do not know _what_ you would do,” she says. “You cannot pretend to _me_ that your species are cold and do not think of such things.”

He bends his head, inclining it towards the crook of her neck, and breathes deep. His nose may be different, but the scent of her is the same, earth and sweat and spices. “I’m not a deviant like that so-called husband of yours,” he says, his hearts hammering so hard he’s afraid she may hear them.

She turns back to look at him. Their faces are very near, but she’s looking at him with loathing burning behind her eyes. “No,” she agrees. “You are not like him. My Andred was ten times the man you are.”

She opens the door a crack and peers out into the corridor. It’s empty, and she’s out of the cupboard without looking back at him, nearly running down the hall.

“Yes, he was,” he whispers to himself, as he’s hurrying after her. “He had you.”


End file.
